Cinderella, as told by Maxwell Smart
by ChrisR
Summary: The beloved fairy tale with Get Smart characters playing all the parts.


This story owes a little to English pantomime tradition and a little to _Fractured Fairy Tales_, among other influences. The framing sequences are set in 1973.- ChrisR

CINDERELLA, AS TOLD BY MAXWELL SMART

"Tell us a story, Daddy."

Zach Smart, aged three and a half, looked earnestly up at his father from his bed in the nursery.

His father looked earnestly back. "Haven't I already told you a story?"

"That was last night," pointed out Maxine, Zach's twin sister, from her matching bed.

Their father considered this. By day he was Maxwell Smart, the ruthless and cunning Secret Agent 86 of CONTROL, but at night he became Daddy, who could deny his children nothing. "All right," he replied. "What story do you want to hear?"

"Cinderella," Maxine said.

"Cinderella," he repeated thoughtfully. "I don't think I know that one."

"You told it to us last night," said Zach.

"Oh. That Cinderella. Are you sure you want to hear that again?"

"Yes," said Maxine emphatically.

"How does it go again?"

"Once upon a time . . . " Maxine prompted.

"Oh, yes. Once upon a time there was a beautiful girl with long dark hair and beautiful blue eyes."

"Just like Mommy," said Maxine.

"That's right - and just like you."

"My eyes are brown, Daddy."

"They are?" Max studied his daugther's eyes for a moment. "Well, they're kind of a bluish brown."

"My eyes are blue," Zach protested.

Max frowned even harder. "They are?"

"Where did she live?"

Max turned back to Maxine. "Where did who live? Oh! The story. Yes, of course. Well, she lived in a big farmhouse with my wicked mother-in-law, er, I mean her wicked stepmother and her ugly stepsisters."

"And what was her name?" asked Zach, completing the nightly ritual.

"Nobody knew her name," Max answered dramatically.

"Not even her family?"

"Not even her family. But since it was her job to clean the cinders out of the fireplace every morning, everyone called her . . . Cinderella."

ooo

Cinderella looked up from her work at the fireplace and caught sight of her reflection in the mirror over the mantle.

"I wish I could do something with my hair," she murmured to herself.

"You stoobit!" blasted a guttural voice behind her. That would be her older stepsister, Sigrid. "Vhat are you still doink here vhen I am ready for my breakfast?" She wore a hat with a heavy veil but it was not enough to hide what appeared to be a scar on her cheek and a bushy mustache. "I haff been waiting already seventeen seconds!" She suddenly adopted a sweeter tone. "You know how I am before I get my morning coffee."

Cinderella bobbed nervously. "I'm sorry, Sigrid. I'll get it for you right away."

She hurried off in the direction of the kitchen while Sigrid sat at the rough-hewn table and counted the seconds as her temper heated up again. When someone appeared in the doorway she looked up hopefully but was irritated to se that it was not Cinderella with her coffee but the somewhat ungainly form of her own sister Shtarka (spelt with an 'a' - like Liza with a 'z' but . . . not).

"Vhy are you grinning like zat? Nitwit!"

"I'm happy because it's such a beautiful morning, Sigrid."

"Not before I get my coffee, it isn't."

Cinderella emerged from the kitchen with a tray bearing a steaming mug of coffee and a plate which she set upon the table.

"Your eggs, Sigrid," she said with a slight curtsey.

Sigrid stared at the plate and glared at Cinderella. "You haff broken ze yolks again!" she seethed.

"They're scrambled," Cinderella protested.

"Dummkopf! Vhy vould you make zem scrambled vhen you know I like zem sunny-side up..." She bared her teeth in a caricature of a smile. "...to go vith my sunny personality?"

"I ordered zem scrambled," Shtarka volunteered.

Sigrid's rage found a new target. "You? You nincompoop! You - you - sissy!"

"I like zem scrambled," Shtarka mumbled.

Sigrid turned back to Cinderella. "From now on you vill listen to my orders only. After all," she straightened herself regally, "I am ze first-born."

Shtarka looked puzzled. "How can you be ze first-born vhen you keep saying you are younger?"

"Zis is Fairytale Land! Ve don't qvestion a lady's age here!"

Cinderella curtseyed again and returned to the kitchen, reappearing moments later with another plate which she set upon the table.

Sigrid stared at it. "You broke ze yolks again."

"They're scrambled," Cinderella reminded her.

Sigrid sighed loudly. "Drat."

Meanwhile, at the royal palace, the royal Prince Maximillian was being summoned to a royal audience in the royal throne room with his royal father, the royal King.

"You sent for me, Chief, er, Your Majesty, er ... Dad?"

"Let's just stick with 'Your Majesty'" said the King.

"Good idea."

"I called you here to discuss a vital matter concerning the very survival of the Kingdom."

"Well, I'm certainly in favor of that. Can I get back to my tiddlywinks now?"

"Not so fast, Max. We need to determine what is to happen when I am no longer here."

"You going on vacation?"

"Not exactly. I was thinking of something a little more permanent. After all, none of us lives forever."

"Well, there's no need for you to worry about that. I'm ready, willing and able to take over any time. In fact I'm raring to go."

"You needn't sound so eager about it. We _are_ talking about my demise."

"Oh. Sorry about that, Ch- Your Majesty."

"But your willingness to take responsibility is commendable. So I'm sure you will be just as willing to do what is required now."

"Of course I am," Max replied cockily. "What is that exactly?"

"I have decided that it's time for you to take a bride."

"Who's bride?'

"Your bride."

"I don't have a bride."

"That's my point, Max. It's time for you to get married."

"To a girl?"

"Yes."

"Well, there's the problem."

"What problem?"

"I've been cooped up in this castle for twenty years. I don't know any girls."

"I'm aware of that, Max. That's why I've decided to throw a royal ball here at the royal palace. I intend to issue a proclamation ordering that all the eligible females in the Kingdom are to be brought here for the celebration."

"Like Chicken Delight?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it quite that way."

"That's a great idea! With all those girls here I'll be sure to find my perfect match."

"Mmm." The King had a sudden vision of a female version of Max. "Maybe it's not such a good idea after all."

"There's just one thing I don't understand."

"Just one?'

"How will my getting married ensure the survival of the Kingdom?"

"Well, naturally, in due course, you and your wife will be expected to produce an heir."

"Produce an heir? Is that anything like pulling a rabbit out of a hat?"

The King shook his head sadly. "That will be the subject of our next talk."

A short while later, back at Cinderella's house, Sigrid was lolling languidly on the lounge carelessly dropping grapes into her own mouth when her torpor was interrupted by a sharp rapping sound. Nearby, Shtarka was busily engaged in coloring in pictures of dragons and sword-wielding knights.

"Vass iss zat noise?"

"Dat iss ze doorbell, Sigrid."

"Dunderhead! Ze doorbell has not been invented yet."

"Zen it must be someone knocking."

"Where is that good for nothing Cinderella?" asked their mother, who oddly did not have a German accent.

"Here I am," cried Cinderella, running into the room. "I was cleaning out the fireplace in your bedroom - again," she added under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Stepmother." There was a fireplace in every room so it was really a never-ending job. She opened the door. "It's Tyler the Newsboy," she announced, stepping back to admit the lad.

"Well, out with it, boy," said the Stepmother. "What's the news across the nation?"

"Potentially pivotal palace proclamation," said Tyler.

"Skip zee alliteration and get to ze point," Sigrid snapped.

"Prince Maximillian is to marry and, in order to select a bride, a ball will be held at the palace a week from tonight and all eligible females in the Kingdom are invited." He trailed off and stood in an uncomfortable silence.

"Is zat it?" asked Sigrid.

"Yes, sir - ma'am."

"Zen buzz off!"

Tyler was only too happy to comply.

"A Royal Ball," said the Stepmother. "How exciting."

Sigrid and Shtarka linked arms and danced around the room chanting, "Ve're going to meet ze Prince! Ve're going to meet ze Prince!"

"Come along, you two," said their mother. "We have to start planning your outfits for the ball."

"What about me?" asked Cinderella, thinking of her own scant wardrobe. "What will I wear?"

"Oh, you aren't going," the Stepmother replied callously,

"But, Stepmother," Cinderella protested, "the newsboy said the invitation was for everyone."

"You'd only embarrass yourself, dear. What would the prince think if he saw you next to my beautiful daughters?"

Cinderella looked across at Sigrid and Shtarka who began grotesquely striking fashion-model poses. "Well, I - "

"It's for your own good."

So on the night of the ball Cinderella was left home alone with only her animal friends Fang the Dog and Polly the Parrot for company.

She hugged Fang to her for comfort. "It's not fair," she sobbed.

"Not fair!" agreed Polly from her perch. "Not fair! Not fair!"

"Why can't _I_ go to the ball?"

"You can," said a voice behind her.

Cinderella stood up and turned around to the kindly face of a petite woman with red hair.

"Who are you?" she asked, not unreasonably.

"I'm your Fairy Godmother," the woman replied in some surprise. "I thought the Magic Wand would have beeen a giveaway."

"I didn't know I had a Fairy Godmother. Why haven't I seen you before this?"

"I've always been nearby watching over you," she explained. "I might have been the customer ahead of you at the market, or the lady behind the counter at the money-lender's, or the peasant woman in the park. But I'm only permitted to intervene one time - and tonight's the night."

"Then I really am going to the ball?"

"Yes, child. And a lot more besides if things work out the way they should. But first we'll have to clean you up a little." She waved her wand and the soot on Cinderella's face suddenly disappeared revealing her natural creamy complexion. "And you'll need a dress." Cinderella's shabby smock shimmered and instantly she was wearing a beautiful blue ball gown. "And, of course, we'll have to do something with your hair."

Cinderella smiled sheepishly. "You heard that?"

"I hear everything. When Santa Claus checks his list he checks with me."

Another wave of the wand and Cinderella's lanky locks were remade into a stylish bouffant.

The Fairy Godmother pointed to the mirror. "So what do you think?"

"I can't thank you enough!" Cinderella said in delight. "But how will I get there?"

"Let's see what you have in the kitchen," the Fairy Godmother replied cryptically, scurrying off in that direction. "This should do nicely," she pronounced, selecting a ripe kumquat from the larder.

She took the fruit outside and set it on the road. A brief incantation saw it begin to grow larger before transforming into a magnificent golden coach.

"Where's that dog I saw earlier? Fang!" she called.

In short order the dog became a harnessed horse. In like manner the parrot became a chauffeur in green and yellow livery.

"Now it's very important that you understand that the magic wears off at midnight. So you must be sure that you leave before the clock strikes twelve."

"I will."

"One last thing," the Fairy Godmother said. A flower appeared at the end of her fingertips and she pinned it to Cinderella's dress.

"A rose?"

"To remember me by."

"Whenever I see a Rose, I'll think of you," Cinderella promised.

Then with a final flourish of her wand, the Fairy Godmother diappeared in a flash of light.

Meanwhile, back at the palace, Prince Maximillian was dancing with the Lady Sigrid.

"Oof!" Max remarked as she stomped on his foot - again.

Sigrid tittered behind her veil. "You know vaht zey say, Your Highness. 'Big feet, big heart.'"

"Oof!" Max replied.

Next he danced with Shtarka - and trod on _her_ feet.

Shtarka fluttered her fan flirtatiously. "Oh, Your Highness! I'm not zat sort of girl."

It had been like this all evening. A procession of inane Giggling Gerties who were already blurring in his memory. How was he supposed to choose one of them? The only thing he was certain of was that the apothecary would be doing a roaring trade in foot ointment in the morning. He was about to call a halt to the shemozzle when Sir Larabee du Lac, who had been watching the door, announced a late arrival. Max was immediately entranced by the newcomer's sparkling smile and graceful bearing.

"Ladies and Gentleman," Larabee pronounced formally, "may I introduce ... " He paused as the girl whispered in his ear. He gave a puzzled frown, then shrugged before repeating, " ... Mademoiselle."

To Max it seemed as though she simply floated toward him, the crowd parting like the Red Sea.

He extended his hand. "Shall we dance? I happen to be an expert in all forms of ballroom dancing."

"A waltz, then."

"Except that."

"It's easy. I'll teach you."

Max raised his eyebrows. This was new. A girl who didn't agree with everything he said, who spoke her own mind. He found he liked that. "A waltz," he instructed Larabee, who had resumed his position as band leader.

"Watch my feet. All you have to do is count your steps in time to the music. Like this: One-two-three, and ... one-two-three, and ...one-two-three, and ... "

As they danced they talked. Beginning, as strangers are wont to do, with the vicissitudes of the weather before moving on to matters of greater moment such as the relative merits of the local jousting teams and the latest troubadour trivia. And on each one she had her own opinion which she vigorously defended.

Sigrid and Shtarka and the rest of the girls watched the display in dismay.

"Who is zat dancing vith ze Prince?" asked Shtarka. Spruced up the way she was, and without her accustomed layer of grime, even her own family didn't recognize her.

"Everyone is asking zat question," Sigrid answered. "She is a mystery girl."

"Ah! I did not know zat."

"Of course not, you lunkhead! It's a mystery!"

Maximillian and Cinderella remained oblivious to the chatter. As they danced and talked it slowly became as though they were the only two people in the room and the world beyond each other's eyes had simply ceased to exist. Most importantly, she was not treading on his toes. Even more remarkably, he was not treading on hers. That had to mean something, right?

"Have we met before?" Max asked at length.

"That's a very old line, Your Highness."

"I don't know any 'lines'. I've been cooped up in the castle for twenty years."

"Then how could we have met before?"

"Good point. It's just that you're so easy to talk to. It seems like I've known you forever."

"I feel the same way."

"So what happens now?"

The stood in silence for a moment. By instinct they moved closer together, their lips almost touching.

Suddenly a bell chimed.

"What was that?" she asked in alarm.

"Nothing. It was just the clock striking midnight. See?" he added as the bell chimed again.

"Twelve o'clock? Already? I can't believe it."

"Would you believe eleven?"

The clock struck a third time.

"I have to go," she stated in an agitated tone as the clock struck four.

"So soon? The party's hardly begun."

"I have to go!" she repeated, looking around for the exit.

The clock struck five.

"But we haven't even played pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey yet."

She touched his cheek. "You're sweet." The clock struck six. "But I have to go."

She dashed away as the clock struck for the seventh time. He tried to follow but was waylaid by a gaggle of would-be wives. Eight, nine, ten. He broke through as the cluck struck eleven but by the time he reached the door the clock had struck twelve and his mystery girl was nowhere to be seen.

Prince Max spent a restless night that night but the morning brought a new hope.

"Look at what Sir Larabee found on the palace steps!" he cried excitedly as he burst into the throne room with said worthy at his heels. "It may be a clue to the disappearance of the mystery girl last night."

"I know you're anxious to find her, Max." the King replied sympathetically. "What is it?"

"Well, it's either a glass slipper ot the second biggest gumdrop I've ever seen."

"It's not a gumdrop," put in Larabee, "I tried sucking on it before I brought it inside."

"And?" Max demanded.

"Tastes like chicken."

The King grimaced. "What is is with you two and chicken?"

"It's delicious," Larabee replied. "And nutritious."

"And economical," Max added.

The King sighed. "Let's get back to the glass slipper, shall we."

"The mystery girl was wearing slippers like this at the ball last night," said Max. "I remember noticing them when she was teaching me, er, when we were dancing. She must have lost it when she ran away."

"That sounds logical," the King conceded. He examined the object more closely. "This is very unusual work. Something like this would have had to have been custom fitted."

"Then that's it. All I have to do is go to every home in the Kingdom until I finally find the foot that fits."

"And the girl attached to it," Larabee added.

"It's a big Kingdom," the King objected. "It'll take you a year to visit every house."

"You're exaggerating. Ten months, eleven months tops."

"Are you sure about this, Max?" The King picked up a sheaf of papers from his desk. "I've got a buch of offers from foreign nobles eager to marry their daughters off. Maybe we should take one of them up on it."

"I'm as sure as I've ever been about anything. She's the only girl in the world for me. I'll climb up dale and down hill to find her."

"Up hill and down dale."

"What?"

"The expression is 'up hill and down dale'."

"Oh. Well whatever I have to climb, I'll climb. Besides, maybe I'll be lucky and go to the right house first."

"Very well. Larabee? Assemble a riding party and make ready for immediate depature."

"Right, Ch- Your Majesty." Larabee bowed awkardly and backed out of the room.

"And you won't mind if I hold on to these," the King added to Max, indicating the papers.

"What for?"

The King looked from side to side to make sure he was not being overheard. "Your mother's been gone a long time, Max."

Precisely eleven months and twenty-seven days later, Max and Larabee arrived outside Cinderella's house.

The Stepmother had seen them approach and opened the door breathlessly. "Prince Maximillian! Are you here to propose to one of my daughters?"

"Probably."

"Probably? What do you mean?"

"The girl I'm looking for left this glass slipper behind at the ball and I've been seaching for her ever since," Max explained. "As fate would have it this is the last house in the Kingdom. Therefore the girl it fits must live here."

This made perfect sense to the Stepmother and she called her two daughters to try the slipper on but their feet were too big and boney. The Stepmother even had a go but her foot was too thin and scrawny.

"That's strange," Max mused. "I was sure she must be here. Well, we'll just have to start over. Come on, Larabee."

"Right, Max."

"What about Cinderella?" said Tyler the Newsboy.

Max stopped in his tracks. "Who's Cinderella?"

"She's no one," said Sigrid. She glared at Tyler. "Vhat are you even doing here anyvay?"

Tyler smiled smugly. "Delivering the news."

"Cinderella is my stepdaughter," said the Stepmother. "She wasn't even at the ball. Both my real daughters danced with you last night. Pleae let them try again, Your Majesty."

"'Your Highness," Max corrected. "Your Majesty is my father. Where is this Cinderella?"

"They make her sleep in the woodshed with the chickens," said Tyler.

Max and Larabee looked at each other. "Chicken!" they exclaimed triumphantly.

"Bring Cinderella out immediately," Max commanded.

"But, Your Highness ... "

"Is she a girl? Does she have feet? Then she tries on the slipper!" Max said without stopping, forestalling any potentially unpleasant answers.

The Stepmother bowed and went to fetch Cinderella.

Cinderella appeared back wearing her rags and covered in soot and cinders. When she saw the prince she gasped. "Max - Your Highness!"

She held his gaze for only a moment before looking down but something told Max that he had found the right girl.

He held out the glass slipper. "Do you recognize this?"

Cinderella hesitated. "Should I?"

"Try it on . . . please."

The room held its collective breath as Cinderella slowly slipped her foot into the slipper

"The slipper fits like a glove," Larabee observed.

Max took a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped the soot from her face.

"It _is_ you."

"Yes, it's me," she admitted. "I never thought I'd see you again. Except maybe to wave at you from the crowd as you passed by."

"Vhat is happening?" wailed Shtarka. "How does she know ze Prince?"

"You ninny!" Sigrid snapped. "Don't you understand? She vas ze mystery girl at ze Royal Ball!"

Their mother had also made the calculation. "Your Highness is welcome in our unworthy home," she said obsequiously. "How can we make your visit more comfortable?"

"The Prince and I would like to be alone," replied a suddenly emboldened Cinderella.

"I don't think that would be proper, dear. After all, if there are arrangements to be made, I am your mother."

"Stepmother."

"As you wish, dear." She paused. "Just call if you want anything." She bobbed a curtsey and backed away.

"Zis is ridiculous!" Sigrid protested.

"Come, Sigrid!" Her mother commanded. "You, too, Shtarka! And stop that caterwauling this instant! What has it ever gotten you? Why can't you be more like Cinderella?"

"Vhat is to become of us, Sigrid?" Shtarka asked as they followed their mother out of the room.

"I suppose ve will just have to get used to ze idea zat ve are doomed to be old maids," Sigrid replied in an unusually conciliatory tone.

"But since you are ze first-born, you vill be ze older maid."

Sigrid raised a finger. "Don't push it, Shtarka."

"What are you doing here, Max?" Cinderella asked when the noise had died away and Tyler and Larabee had also made a tactful withdrawal. "How did you find me?"

"I've been searching the Kingdom up hill and down dale - hmm, it does sound better that way."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I love you. I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since that night at the ball."

"Love." She repeated the word as though it were in a foreign language. "All my life I've never felt truly loved. But you really must love me if you've gone to so much trouble to find me."

"You didn't make it easy running away like that without even telling me your name . . . Cinderella."

"Cinderella isn't my real name. That's just what my stepsisters called me."

"Well, soon they'll be calling you Princess."

"Is that a proposal?"

He held out his arms. "Would you like it to be?"

For answer, she flung herself into his embrace, her eyes glistening. "Oh. Max. I think I must love you, too."

ooo

"And then what happened?" Zach demanded.

"And then Cinderella married Prince Max and moved into his castle and they had two wonderful kids."

"And then what happened?" Maxine persisted.

Max grinned. He knew what they wanted to hear. "Why don't you ask your mother?" he suggested.

They all turned expectantly toward 99 who had been silently watching them from her seat across the room.

She smiled contentedly at them. "And we all lived happily ever after."


End file.
